Supplemental Forms
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: When Yamamoto Takeshi returns from the future, he has to cope with the loss of his box weapons. Fortunately, his father is there to help. Post TYL-arc, new future; gen, focusing on Yamamoto and his father.


**Title:** Supplemental Forms**  
Characters:** Yamamoto Takeshi, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi**  
Summary:** When Yamamoto Takeshi returns from the future, he has to cope with the loss of his box weapons. Fortunately, his father is there to help.**  
Notes:** Post-TYL arc with a new future. Gen and really quite fluffy. Notes for context are located at the end of the fic. 6908 words.

* * *

**Supplemental Forms**

_You know that Takeshi is changing; you've watched it happening in front of your eyes. Boys do that, especially boys his age. Still, you think it's more than simple adolescence that's happening to your boy. Boys get into scuffles with each other, that's part of life, but lately Takeshi has taken to coming home with injuries that a simple fistfight can't explain away._

_And a boy doesn't ask to be taught the sword for schoolyard matters._

_You don't say anything about it. You've raised a good boy, one his mother would have been proud of, and you trust him to know what he's doing, and to tell you what he's been up to when he's good and ready for it. Whatever it is he's involved in, it's been good for him; there's something awake in his eyes that didn't used to be there, and it makes your boy walk taller, straighter, a little more like a man every day._

_You trust him, but you still have a bad time of it when he and the schoolmates, the friends you suspect are a part of whatever it is that is changing your son, disappear. No one can explain it, not the police or their parents, and worry wears you thin as the days drag past without any word or sign from him. _

_Every time the bell above the shop door rings, you look to see whether it's him. But the days go by and it never is, until you almost want to stop looking, because you can't take it any more. Wherever he is, you hope he's okay, taking care of himself, and remembering all the things you've taught him._

_One day, a slow day when no one wants sushi, you're leaning against the counter, and the bell rings. You start to welcome the customer, only to realize that it's not a customer at all. It's your boy, and he's looking pretty banged up. You look at him for a moment, and he looks at you, and there's a man looking back at you from his eyes, grave. Then he smiles, sheepish, and it's just your boy Takeshi again. _

_Well, come in, you tell him. Come in and tell me all about it._

_And, for a wonder, he does._

_

* * *

_

It took Takeshi an entire pot of tea, and then some, to tell his story, since he had to go all the way back to the beginning of the thing. Tsuyoshi let him tell it at his own pace, and kept the moments when the things Takeshi described made his heart clench strictly to himself. He'd been doing as much for years, ever since his boy had gotten big enough to get himself into real trouble, so that was nothing new. What _was_ new was the way Takeshi held himself, upright with an air of responsibility, maybe even authority, that he wore a little uncomfortably, like a new suit that hadn't been broken in yet.

He wasn't going to be able to think of Takeshi as _his boy_ for very much longer.

When Takeshi finally finished his story, Tsuyoshi sucked on his teeth. "I'd like to see the new forms you created," he said, eyes resting on the heavy ring Takeshi wore so casually.

"It's probably going to be a few years," Takeshi said, and looked as grumpy as he ever got about the matter. "We have to wait for them to invent the boxes, first."

"I imagine I can be patient," Tsuyoshi told him, which earned him a smile. "Now, here's the important question: what did they feed you in the future? You're skin and bones, boy."

Takeshi laughed and protested that it was all muscle, but Tsuyoshi fixed him three plates before he finally refused another helping.

There were still things that Takeshi wasn't bringing up--a man didn't have to be a genius to figure that out, not when Takeshi was careful about talking too much about the world of the future. The gaps in his story said a lot too, and so did the way Takeshi said, on his way to bed, "I'm really glad to see you again, Tousan."

Tsuyoshi wondered how long he'd been dead in this future that his boy had seen, but didn't ask. "I'm pretty glad to see you, too," he said, instead of that, and put an arm around Takeshi's shoulders.

Even though Takeshi had grown up a lot in the time he'd been gone, he leaned into the brief hug all the same.

* * *

Even without the box weapons he'd described--and Tsuyoshi was still hard put to figure those out, even with all the descriptions Takeshi had given him--his boy's Shigure Souen was impressive. Takeshi's movement through the forms demonstrated the economy of grace; he'd clearly learned a lot while he'd been away.

"Who did you study with?" he asked, when Takeshi had finished working for the day, and had joined him on the engawa for tea. There were new facets to Takeshi's sword now, ones that weren't entirely Japanese, and the complexity of it was intriguing.

"Mostly Reborn-san," Takeshi said, pointing to the other thing Tsuyoshi had trouble figuring out, even with the explanations Takeshi had tried to give. Babies who weren't babies at all: who would have thought it? "Squalo-san helped, too."

That explained the foreign influence. "It's made interesting changes to your style." Takeshi frowned at that. "What?"

"Nothing," Takeshi said, but he was looking away.

Tsuyoshi considered that, and whether he ought to push for an answer. "All right," he said, and sipped his tea, deciding against it. Takeshi was old enough to determine what was his own business and what needed to be shared. He'd explain when he was ready, if it ended up being important.

It wasn't long after that when Takeshi didn't come home at his normal time. Tsuyoshi tried hard not to worry about it--and messed up three different customers' orders while he was attempting to fool himself--and then tried not to be too obviously relieved when Takeshi finally came in, scuffed up and with a bruise purpling his jaw and a flat look in his eyes.

"Tough day in the mafia game?" Tsuyoshi asked him, when they'd seen to the scrapes and Takeshi was sitting and picking at his dinner.

"Something like that." Takeshi gestured with his ring hand. "Seems like there's someone who thinks this would look better on him than me."

"Did you change his mind for him?" Tsuyoshi asked, carefully not looking up from the fish he was slicing.

"Yeah, for the time being." From the corner of his eye, he could see Takeshi gazing at his ring, mouth rueful. "Looks like our vacation's over."

"I thought you might say that," Tsuyoshi said. "Keep me posted, if you can."

Something eased in the line of Takeshi's mouth, like he'd been afraid of the reaction he'd get. "Sure thing, Tousan."

"So how was school?" Tsuyoshi asked him. Takeshi pounced on the answer, clearly grateful for the subject change, and that was that, at least for the conversation.

* * *

"You're frustrated today," Tsuyoshi remarked, when Takeshi had sheathed Shigure Kintoki for the last time and had come to sit with him.

Takeshi settled into seiza and accepted the tea Tsuyoshi offered him. "Shows that badly, huh?"

"How many years have I known you, boy?"

Takeshi laughed. "Okay, okay. Good point."

"Of course it is." Tsuyoshi let him sip his tea in silence, and contemplated him. Takeshi wasn't nearly as cheerful as he ought to have been, considering how late he and his friends had stayed at the restaurant, celebrating what Tsuyoshi had gathered was a decisive victory over the would-be ring thieves. "What's bothering you?" he asked, when he'd judged that Takeshi's silence had gone on long enough.

Takeshi shifted, and didn't look at him. "Nothing. I won, didn't I?"

Perhaps he was going to have to pry after all. "There's winning, and there's winning. What is it about this one that bothers you?"

What he could see of Takeshi's face was set in unhappy lines. "It doesn't feel complete," he said, slowly.

Tsuyoshi watched the teacup as it revolved in Takeshi's hands. "You think they'll be back to try again?"

"No," Takeshi said, voice low, still looking away from him. "I mean--Shigure Souen. It feels incomplete."

Ah, was that it? He concealed his smile behind his tea. "Isn't it?" Tsuyoshi asked, when he trusted himself not to betray his amusement.

Takeshi jerked around to look at him. "Tousan?" His expression was so shocked that Tsuyoshi had to laugh, just a little bit. For all his self-sufficiency and newfound maturity, it seemed like Takeshi was going to stay his boy for a little longer.

Tsuyoshi put his tea down and reached over to flick Takeshi's forehead. "Think about it, boy. You have forms that you can't use. Of _course_ your Shigure Souen is going to feel incomplete."

"Oh. Um." Takeshi rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. "I didn't think about it that way."

"Clearly." Perhaps a bit more prodding was in order. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I--hm." Takeshi looked thoughtful. "Let me think about that."

This time, Tsuyoshi didn't bother hiding his smile. "All right."

* * *

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi loved his son and was proud of him, and knew perfectly well that while Takeshi was many fine things, he wasn't what anyone would describe as the scholarly sort. When Tsuyoshi passed through the living room and found Takeshi crouched in front of the bookshelf, fingers tracing along the spines of the books, he paused to puzzle over the sight.

Then he realized which books Takeshi was looking at. "You might try the _Go Rin No Sho_," he suggested, after a moment. "To start with, anyway."

Takeshi's hand paused, and hovered over a book. "You think so?"

"After that, try the _Hagakure_. Those two'll ground you in the philosophy." Tsuyoshi considered the titles in his small library. "From there, I'd go to the biographies and see if anything gave me ideas." He crossed the room and leaned over Takeshi's shoulder to pull three books a few centimeters out of their places. "These especially. They're the stories of some of the most famous lines of Shigure Souen."

"Philosophy. Oh, man." Takeshi made a face, but pulled the titles obediently and stacked them.

Tsuyoshi cuffed the back of his head, gently. "It's good for you."

"So's gouya, but catch me eating that stuff." Takeshi leaned his head back and grinned up at him. "Thanks, Tousan."

"Nn." Tsuyoshi gestured at the stack of books. "What are you thinking?"

Takeshi bounced to his feet, and scratched his head. "Dunno, yet. I just know I don't want to wait on getting my box weapon back. Could be years before that happens, and that's too long to be waiting around like this."

"I suppose it is," Tsuyoshi agreed. "Have fun."

"Thanks," Takeshi said, hefting his books. "You know I will."

* * *

When the bell over the door jingled, Takeshi was seated at the end of the counter, long legs tucked up under his chair and his current book--a biography of Miyamoto Musashi--propped up against the glass case in front of him. "Welcome!" Tsuyoshi called, and smiled to see that it was Tsuna and Gokudera. "Takeshi, it's for you."

"Oh, hey." Takeshi grinned as he marked his place. "Something up?"

Tsuna's smile looked resigned. "Sort of. Can you--?" He gestured towards the door.

"Aw, man." Takeshi bolted a few more bites of his dinner. "Tousan, I've gotta take this," he said, indistinct around the food.

"Go on." Tsuyoshi waved him along, watching the way Takeshi's casual sprawl changed into something alert and almost wary. "I'll take care of the mess."

"Thanks," Takeshi said. "Be back later, or I'll call, or something."

"Do what you can," Tsuyoshi said, and watched him go.

As they headed for the door, Gokudera said, "I didn't even know you could read."

"Oh, screw you," Takeshi said, cheerfully, and then they were gone, the bell over the door jingling merrily in their wake.

It was another crisis, Tsuyoshi supposed. Well, they'd been due, since it'd been a few weeks, and these incidents had been happening with something like a regular frequency in the months since Takeshi's visit to the future. It was probably going to keep on being one damn thing after another, too, he decided as he cleared away the remains of Takeshi's dinner, and put the biography in a safe place.

When they had a moment, he was going to have to ask Takeshi how the reading and thinking were coming along.

* * *

"So," Tsuyoshi said, after a moment, "Italy, hm?"

"Not for long," Takeshi said, quickly. "Just so some of the other members of the Vongola can get a look at Tsuna. Since we're his Guardians..." His shrug was complex, managing to fold _What can you do?_ into _It's no big deal, really_ and _I am way too cool to show how excited I am_ and _Holy crap, Italy!_ "Reborn-san was saying something about Italian lessons, too."

"Since he's pulling you out of school for this, it shouldn't be all play," Tsuyoshi pointed out. Takeshi had the good sense to look at least a bit abashed. "I'll want a good souvenir, of course."

"Nothing but the best," Takeshi promised him, grinning with all the enthusiasm of a boy half his age. "This is going to be awesome. Maybe I'll have a chance to see Squalo-san and show him what I learned from the other version of him."

"That might be useful. You haven't had many opponents lately to challenge you." Tsuyoshi thought that was a pity, really, given the way Takeshi rose to meet challenges.

"Yeah." That seemed to remind Takeshi of something; he leaned back on his hands, eyes going distant. "Our form of Shigure Souen. It's different from some of the other forms."

"That happens, since it's passed down the way it is." Perhaps it wasn't going to be left up to this Squalo person to shake Takeshi's form up after all. Tsuyoshi folded his hands under his chin and waited to see where Takeshi was going.

"Yeah, but some of the other forms were... really different," Takeshi said, slowly. "Like the Shigure Souen Nitōryu."

"Ah. No wonder you've been reading about Miyamoto Musashi lately." Tsuyoshi rubbed his chin, thinking back through the lines that had used two swords. "A two-sword form would be very different from the style you're currently practicing."

"I know. That's what I want--something that'll supplement my Shigure Souen, the way the box weapons did." Takeshi's sudden quick smile was rueful at the edges. "Or maybe it was the other way around. I never did decide on that part.

"You had it right the first time," Tsuyoshi grumbled, for form and pride's sake. "So you want to revive a nitōryu form? Hm."

"I'm not sure it'd be _reviving_ one so much as it would be creating one," Takeshi said. "One that I could use with a box weapon later, if it came to that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Or maybe it would be a branch. Can you do that? I mean, be a master of two different forms?"

"I would call it two different aspects of the same form," Tsuyoshi said, amused by the way Takeshi was frowning as he tried to puzzle through his terminology. "Since you haven't developed it yet, it might be a little early to figure out what to call it."

Takeshi laughed. "Yeah," he admitted, "you're probably right. Guess I'll worry about that part after I've figured out what it looks like."

"Wise of you," Tsuyoshi said, and refrained from commenting on his son's enthusiasm. Takeshi had done his reading and knew full well that two-sword styles were difficult--there was a reason that there weren't any extant lines, after all.

* * *

The house was quiet without Takeshi in it, but Tsuyoshi'd had more than his fair share of time to get used to that, and put his quiet evenings to use in making discreet inquiries. When Takeshi returned (skin burned dark by the Mediterranean sun, with no obvious injuries and a hundred new stories to tell), Tsuyoshi was able to offer him something in exchange for his souvenir.

"I thought you might find that useful," he said, when Takeshi had drawn the last of the wrappings away to reveal the wakizashi beneath.

"Just a little bit, yeah," Takeshi breathed, eyes delighted and hands reverent as he unsheathed the blade and examined it. "It's perfect. Thank you, Tousan." He carefully slid the blade back into its sheath and looked uncertain. "Now I don't know if I got you a good enough souvenir."

Tsuyoshi snorted at him. "Don't be ridiculous." That wasn't really the point, anyway, even if the rich red of the wine in its bottle looked promising.

Takeshi brightened. "Well, I did pester Dino-san into helping me pick it out. So it should be okay."

"I'm sure it will be," Tsuyoshi said, glancing at the way Takeshi's fingers kept smoothing over the guard of the wakizashi. "Where will you begin?"

Takeshi glanced down. "I'm not sure." He looked back up, after a moment, eyes clear. "I was hoping you would help me."

"Why?" Tsuyoshi asked. "Can't you do it yourself?"

"Yeah, probably." Takeshi shrugged that off. "But I'd like to work with you anyway." His sudden smile was almost wistful. "I'm so busy these days. It would be good to have a reason to spend more time with you."

Tsuyoshi found he had to clear his throat before he could reply to that, and even then his voice was rough in his own ears. "That's fair enough," he said. "I'd be glad to help."

* * *

"This," Takeshi panted, when he'd gotten swords and footwork tangled yet again, and Tsuyoshi had fetched him a sharp rap across the ribs, "is a lot harder than I'd thought it would be."

"Most things worth doing turn out that way." Tsuyoshi gestured. "One more time, and we'll be done for the day."

"What's one more bruise?" Takeshi asked, but he smiled and set himself again anyway, swords bright in his hands--if nothing else, his form was good.

This time went better; when Tsuyoshi lunged forward, Takeshi came to meet him, wakizashi coming up to guard his body. He met the stroke with Shigure Kintoki, but his grip was looser than it should have been. Tsuyoshi twisted the sword out of his had and smacked his wrist, all in the same movement.

"Damn," Takeshi said, when they broke apart. He sheathed the wakizashi and retried Shigure Kintoki, and then nursed his wrist. "I'm beginning to see why no one kept the two-sword style up."

"There _was_ a certain difficulty in finding heirs with the skills to do it properly," Tsuyoshi agreed. "Not every swordsman is of the caliber that a nitōryu style demands."

Takeshi's eyes sparked. "Too bad for them, huh?"

Tsuyoshi was careful not to smile. "I suppose so. Clean up in here while I make the tea."

When he came back, Takeshi was outside, rubbing his wrist and looking like he was thinking. "That last time," he said. "It almost worked. Would have, if I'd kept my grip." He waited, but Tsuyoshi only grunted at him. "I'm going to have to strengthen my wrists, aren't I?"

"To start," Tsuyoshi agreed, and handed him his cup of tea. "See what that baseball coach of yours has to say."

"Yeah, I'll do that. We can probably add something to my regular training." Takeshi snapped his fingers. "That reminds me."

"Of?" Tsuyoshi prompted him, hoping that Takeshi wasn't about to surprise him with another one of the baseball team's requests for parental volunteers.

"Reborn-san. He's calling the Varia to Japan. He thinks we need more training."

And where was Takeshi going to find more time for training in? But he supposed that was Takeshi's problem, not his. "That should be useful. This Squalo of yours ought to be able to help you with your nitōryu."

"I guess he could..." Takeshi's voice trailed off. "If I told him about it."

"If?" Tsuyoshi echoed.

"I think... I think I want to perfect it before I show him," Takeshi declared, and then nodded. "Yeah. It'll be more fun that way."

"Suit yourself," Tsuyoshi told him, and drank his tea. If they had to postpone the nitōryu training for a while, it'd be no bad thing. Takeshi would have time to build up his wrists, anyway.

* * *

A few days later, he found out why Takeshi had said it would be more fun to surprise Squalo with his new style.

"Hey, Rain Guardian, where the hell are you?" demanded the whirlwind that burst through the restaurant's door and set the bell to jangling.

Tsuyoshi spared a moment to be grateful that it was a slow afternoon and there were no customers present to be shocked. "If you're looking for Takeshi, he's not home from school yet," he said as he sized the stranger up--gloves, long pale hair, a sword and a pair of feral eyes. "Squalo-san, I presume?"

"That's me." Squalo seemed to be returning the favor of a close inspection. "Who the hell are you?"

"Yamamoto Tsuyoshi." He gestured at a seat. "He'll be home soon, if you care to wait for him."

Something bright and unholy lit in Squalo's eyes. "_You're_ the one who taught him the sword," he proclaimed. "You. Fight me."

"It had been a long time since Tsuyoshi had been challenged, and longer still since he'd felt the uncurling of that hot edge of eagerness that a promising challenge brought with it. For a moment he was tempted to say yes and see what there was to make of this opponent his boy had spoken of with such respect. Then he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I can't, Squalo-san. I'm not the swordsman I used to be. Save your energy for Takeshi. He's probably on his way home. Would you care for a cup of tea while you wait for him?"

Squalo's eyes burned hotter and his hand twitched towards the hilt of his sword. Tsuyoshi wondered whether a simple refusal was going to be enough, and catalogued all the knives within immediate reach, should it come to that. Then Squalo scowled, deeper. "I'll go meet him," he announced, and stormed back out, as suddenly as he had arrived.

Tsuyoshi pursed his lips, watching him go; that one was excitable, wasn't he? Squalo reminded him, a bit, of Takeshi's friend Gokudera.

A person had to wonder whether Squalo handled surprises--or Takeshi's evil sense of humor--any better, but he suspected not.

* * *

Squalo disrupted life in their small household regularly for the next handful of weeks, stalking in at the most peculiar intervals, seeking Takeshi and then spiriting him away for "training sessions" that sounded more like running battles than training to Tsuyoshi. Occasionally he repeated his demand that Tsuyoshi give him a match, too, whenever Takeshi was not readily available, but Tsuyoshi managed to put him off easily enough after the first time.

It made life interesting, and Takeshi seemed to be enjoying the process, so Tsuyoshi thought little of it until the evening Takeshi came in, banged-up and grinning and trailed by Squalo, who was haranguing him every step of the way. "Hey, Tousan," he said, appropriating his usual stool.

"You!" Squalo said, changing streams mid-sentence and rounding on Tsuyoshi. "Why didn't _you_ teach him how to use a sword properly?"

The table of diners in the back corner had stopped eating by this point, eyes wide as they took in Squalo's gesticulations. Fortunately, they were regulars, and they'd seen Gokudera at his most excessive. Moriyama-san had even been present for Lambo and the noodle incident, so Tsuyoshi decided to pay them no mind for the time being. "I beg your pardon, Squalo-san?"

"Look at this! Just look at it!" Squalo held up his arm and dragged the cuff of his sleeve down, revealing a rapidly-darkening bruise against the pale skin of his forearm. "See this?"

"That's nasty," Tsuyoshi said. "I know a salve that's good for bruises like that--"

"I don't want a fucking salve!" Squalo bellowed. "Your son gave me this!"

"...which means he landed a hit, and therefore he's doing _something_ properly." Tsuyoshi raised an eyebrow. "What seems to be the problem?" Upon a moment's reflection, he reached for a platter, and reached for the ōtoro. Moriyama-san's table was going to deserve a treat for putting up with whatever argument was about to explode in their faces.

Squalo threw both of his hands in the air. "The problem is that he didn't cut my fucking arm off! The problem is that he treats this all like it's a big fucking game!"

"You're already missing _one_ hand, Squalo-san," Takeshi pointed out, tone mild. "Losing the other one isn't going to do you much good."

"That! That right there!" Squalo raged, face nearly purple. "You can't _think_ like that! This is serious! This is _real_, you little idiot! You can't show any fucking mercy!" He turned to Tsuyoshi again. "Tell him!"

Tsuyoshi looked at Takeshi, who was watching Squalo's expostulations with a small, unconcerned smile, despite the collection of cuts and bruises he'd amassed over the past few weeks. "Takeshi," he said, gravely, "the sword is not a game."

Takeshi ducked his head, acknowledging the point. "I know, Tousan."

"All right." Tsuyoshi turned his attention back to Squalo. "Is there anything I can get you? Something to eat, perhaps? That salve I mentioned?"

Squalo's eyes swiveled back and forth between them, disbelief mounting in them, until he made a strangled, outraged noise and pivoted on his heel. The entire building shook with how hard he slammed the door behind him.

Moriyama-san's table broke into spontaneous applause.

Takeshi shook his head, sadly. "Someday he's going to give himself a stroke."

"Probably," Tsuyoshi agreed, and handed him the platter. "Run these back to Moriyama-san with our apologies, please."

Takeshi's mouth quirked and he hopped up. When he returned, Tsuyoshi looked at him. "Do you ever strike with the edge?"

"When I need to," Takeshi said, composedly. "Haven't need to more than a couple of times, so far."

"Especially not when Squalo's around?" he prompted.

Takeshi's answering smile was sunny. "Funny how that happens, isn't it?"

Tsuyoshi snorted. "As long as you know what you're doing."

"Eh." Takeshi shrugged. "I'm doing my best."

Tsuyoshi didn't doubt that he was, at that.

* * *

Takeshi didn't bother mentioning when Squalo's training sessions ended, but then, he didn't really need to. The absence of new injuries spoke clearly enough. Tsuyoshi wondered, half-idly, whether Squalo had managed to make Takeshi take him seriously (by his lights, anyway; it never did fail to amaze Tsuyoshi that no one noticed how seriously his boy could be about a game). He decided not, just by the complacent way Takeshi smiled.

"What did you learn this month?" he asked, once it seemed like things had settled back into what passed for a normal routine these days.

Takeshi's eyes gleamed. "I can show you."

Tsuyoshi smiled at his readiness. "I look forward to it."

Reflexes, Tsuyoshi decided later--that was what Squalo had focused on, since Takeshi was attached to Shigure Souen's technique. Takeshi's reactions to his environment came even more readily now, both when he had a sword in his hands and when he didn't--and his sword was never far from his hands any more, to boot.

Temperamental as he was, Tsuyoshi decided, Squalo clearly knew his business.

"Now," he said, when he and Takeshi were well and truly warmed up, "where's your wakizashi? Let's pick up where we left off."

"Sounds good to me." Takeshi's grin was eager. "I've been thinking about this all month."

That showed, too; he moved more confidently than he had the last time they'd tried sparring like this, like he wasn't having to think about where each sword went or why it was going there. That was only as it should be, of course. Takeshi was doing a better job of keeping the wakizashi clear of his strikes, too--those still weren't at his full strength, but that would come with time.

"Not bad," Tsuyoshi told him, when they'd paused to catch their breath. "Seems like you're starting to get the hang of things."

"Starting to, yeah. Not there yet, though." Takeshi rolled his shoulders and settled them into place. "Again?"

Tsuyoshi nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Sometimes Tsuyoshi remembered what life had been like before Takeshi had become friends with Sawada Tsunayoshi. It had been quieter, he remembered--not that Takeshi had ever been a quiet boy, of course, but life before Tsuna and the Vongola _had_ involved fewer explosives.

"Gokudera-kun!" he said, sharply, as Gokudera jumped to defend Tsuna's honor from some perceived slight. "Bombs outside the restaurant, please."

Tsuna tugged Gokudera back down to his seat, mouthing thank-yous to Tsuyoshi behind his back, and Takeshi kept on laughing.

Fewer explosives, perhaps, but there'd been less laughter, before. On the whole, Tsuyoshi supposed it wasn't such a bad trade.

Reborn hopped up onto the counter as the party eased back into full swing. "You look pleased," he noted.

"I am," Tsuyoshi said. Who wouldn't be? The boys' enthusiasm--for life, for having passed their entrance exams, for the prospect of high school stretching out before them--was infectious.

"Mm." Reborn kicked his dangling feet, idly. "Has he talked to you?"

"About...?" Tsuyoshi asked, cautiously.

Reborn was watching Takeshi, eyes intent, the way they were when he looked at Tsuna. "What he's going to do with himself."

"Not in so many words," Tsuyoshi told him. "Why do you ask?"

Reborn was quiet for a bit. "He has a lot of potential," he said, at length. "He shouldn't squander it by splitting his focus in too many directions at once."

"Ah. And what do you suggest?" Tsuyoshi asked, as Takeshi said something that made Gokudera roar, outraged, and lunge for him.

"He's going to need to choose how he's going to serve," Reborn said, as dishes were upset and Lambo wailed in dismay. "He's an impressive swordsman, especially for his age. Tsuna will need that."

"I suppose he will," Tsuyoshi said, watching Tsuna flail at his Guardians, trying to keep Gokudera from throttling Takeshi, who seemed to be treating the whole thing as an impromptu wrestling match.

"There are things he'll need to know that I shouldn't wait too long to teach him."

Ah, and they came to the crux of the matter. "I see." Tsuyoshi scratched his chin. "That kind of swordsman, huh?"

"Just so."

Lambo wailed again as someone's flailing hand knocked him over; everyone scrambled clear as he reached for his bazooka. The sudden arrival of his teenaged self diverted their attentions from the would-be brawl, and Tsuyoshi breathed easier for the safety of his furniture and dishes. "I suppose you have a point," he said. "But it's not my decision to make."

Reborn grunted. "But you could persuade him to make a decision."

"I'll mention it to him," Tsuyoshi said.

"That's all I really ask," Reborn said, and hopped down from the counter, their business apparently concluded, and went to lecture Tsuna on some point of Vongola etiquette.

Later, when they'd seen the last of the party out the door and Takeshi was helping clean up the aftermath, he asked, "What did Reborn-san want?"

"For you to make a decision, apparently," Tsuyoshi told him, stacking plates on a tray.

"Oh. That." Takeshi's voice was flat.

"Don't sound so excited." Tsuyoshi nudged his ribs as he went past. "Say no if that's what you want."

"It's not that. Reborn-san teaches interesting things." Despite that, Takeshi's mouth was set in a flat line. "It's that he wants me to just pick one thing. He says that's what Tsuna will need."

"But...?" Tsuyoshi prompted, when he didn't go on.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what Tsuna _wants_," Takeshi said, all in a rush. "I don't mean that he doesn't want to be the Tenth, he's gotten used to that, but he wants it to be something else, I think."

Tsuyoshi considered that, and put the stack of dirty plates down. He reached over and flicked Takeshi's forehead. "So be what Tsuna-kun wants you to be," he said. "He's the one you follow."

"...I guess he is, isn't he?" Takeshi smiled, sheepish. "Guess I was over-thinking it."

"Just a bit," Tsuyoshi said, and handed him the tub of dirty dishes. "Go wash these."

Takeshi made a face, but his steps were lighter as he headed into the kitchen.

Teenagers. Honestly. Tsuyoshi shook his head as he went to fetch the broom to sweep up, promise to Reborn discharged. That probably hadn't been the conversation Reborn had wanted him to have, but then, he'd only said he'd speak to Takeshi for Reborn. He hadn't promised to take any sides.

All things considered, he was willing to throw his weight in with Tsuna. Anyone who could manage the pack of Guardians he'd gathered to himself was going to be a force to be reckoned with, toddler-sized hitmen notwithstanding.

* * *

The attribute of the Rain Guardian was tranquility, or so Takeshi had explained, more than once. Watching Takeshi going through his kata, slow and deliberate, the movement from one sword to two and back as fluid as water, Tsuyoshi thought that whoever had chosen Takeshi for the Rain had chosen very well.

Takeshi came to the end of his forms and held the last, expression focused and still, before he turned to Tsuyoshi.

"It certainly looks good," Tsuyoshi conceded, responding to the silent question in Takeshi's eyes, "but there's only one real test, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Takeshi said, and was ready when Tsuyoshi surged up and into an immediate attack.

Aside from Takeshi himself, no one else understood the forms of Takeshi's Shigure Souen as well as Tsuyoshi did. He exploited that knowledge ruthlessly, hammering at Takeshi's form at every turn, seeking some vulnerability in it. Takeshi met each strike as smoothly as he'd moved through the kata, the same still focus in his eyes as Tsuyoshi tested him.

That was just as it should be.

Takeshi allowed Tsuyoshi to harry him through all the forms of his Shigure Souen, the nine original and then the three new forms, and then, when Tsuyoshi nodded, he began to press back, going from still concentration to something fierce and joyful that was a delight to meet.

They battled back and forth, for the pleasure of it, until they were both breathless, and Tsuyoshi grunted, "Enough." They broke apart, and Takeshi looked at him, eyebrows raised and expression hopeful. "Good," Tsuyoshi said, and Takeshi grinned. "You didn't need me to tell you that."

"That's not really the point, is it?" Takeshi replied, sheathing his swords and mopping the sweat off his face.

"Hmph." Tsuyoshi turned away so that Takeshi wouldn't see his smile. "Go sit down and cool off. I'll get the drinks."

When he returned, Takeshi was sprawled across the engawa with all the inelegant grace of a teenager, the better to catch the summer breeze. "Show some respect," Tsuyoshi said, nudging Takeshi in the ribs with his foot.

"Can't. You wore me out," Takeshi protested, with a laugh, but he sat up. "You really think it's--whoa. That's not tea."

"Sometimes I don't have to wonder why Gokudera-kun asks me whether we dropped you on your head as a baby," Tsuyoshi said, pouring the sake out and handing Takeshi his cup.

"Tousan...!" Takeshi accepted the cup and eyed it. "You know I'm not old enough--"

Tsuyoshi simply looked at him, and Takeshi stopped short. "You're old enough."

"...huh." Takeshi contemplated the sake and then tasted it, carefully. "Guess it's not a bad style after all, is it?"

"Now you're just fishing for compliments," Tsuyoshi said, dry. "Hush up and enjoy your drink."

"Yes, Tousan," Takeshi said, meekly enough, and grinned into the cup.

Yes, Tsuyoshi decided, watching his son, he'd done a pretty good job of things.

* * *

Tsuyoshi figured it was Takeshi's own business when and how he revealed his hard work to the world, and didn't ask after it. Knowing Takeshi as he did, he figured that Takeshi was either saving it for a moment when he really needed it, or for when he really wanted to amaze someone who needed astonishing--or, as it turned out, both.

"You're looking pleased with yourself," Tsuyoshi said, when Takeshi came skulking in one evening. He eyed the bruises and scrapes Takeshi was sporting, and decided that none of them looked serious. "Don't tell me you've already gotten this territory mess straightened out."

"We were very persuasive," Takeshi said, cheerfully, taking his seat. "They don't like it very much, but they're going to let the Vongola keep a presence here for a while longer. At least until Tsuna graduates, anyway. After that, we'll see." He shrugged. "We're not supposed to encroach on any of the yakuza business, but we haven't been doing that anyway, far as I know. It should work out."

"That's good." It was about as satisfactory a solution as anyone could hope for, really. That still didn't account for the smugness rolling off Takeshi in waves. "Just how persuasive were you?"

"Enough to make it clear that fighting it out would be too expensive," Takeshi said, and added, complacently, "They were pretty impressed by the nitōryu, and _then_ we turned Hibari-san loose on them." He touched a scrape on his cheek, rueful. "'Course, Hibari-san was mad at me for hiding my fangs for so long, but that's Hibari-san for you."

Tsuyoshi snorted. "Impressed, huh?"

Takeshi grinned. "Oh, yeah. Very impressed."

"At least they're sensible," Tsuyoshi pronounced, satisfied.

* * *

It was a bare handful of days later that Superbia Squalo, roaring for Takeshi, threw the door open so violently that the knob lodged itself in the plaster. "Where are you, you little shit?!"

Tsuyoshi lowered his newspaper and sighed. "Nice to see you again, Squalo-san."

"Where's that shitty Rain Guardian?" Squalo demanded. "I've got a bone to pick with him."

"I expect he'll be down in a minute." Takeshi could hardly have missed the shouting or the crashing. "What brings you to Japan?"

"You know damn well what--you!" Squalo growled, when Takeshi came thudding down the stairs. "You little shit, I oughta--"

"Oh, good, you heard about the new forms!" Takeshi said, with such perfect cheerful obliviousness to Squalo's rage that Tsuyoshi had to cough into his hand to keep from laughing. "Want to see them?"

Squalo gaped at him--probably astonished by Takeshi's sheer brass, if Tsuyoshi was any judge. "You little bastard," he said, finally. "I'm going to _make_ you take me seriously."

"I always take you seriously, Squalo-san," Takeshi assured him, every word dripping with sincerity. The effect was undermined by how hard he was having to work at not grinning.

"Get your fucking swords," Squalo growled. "I'll be waiting." He yanked the door free of the plaster and slammed it behind him.

"I'm sure I've told you that you have bad hobbies," Tsuyoshi said, when Takeshi came back downstairs, swords in hand.

Takeshi laughed. "Yeah," he said, "but they're so much fun."

"I'm sure." Tsuyoshi gave the wall a pointed look. "Just remember that when your hobbies cause property damage, it's your job to fix it."

"I'll take care of it when I get home," Takeshi promised him.

"See that you do," Tsuyoshi said, but he couldn't help smiling as Takeshi grinned and loped out to go after Squalo. "Terrible hobbies," he said, shaking his head and returning to his newspaper.

* * *

_These days, your boy is pretty much only a boy in the figurative sense, to you and no one else. He's a man grown now, who comes and goes as he pleases, though he's pretty conscientious about letting you know what he's up to, in a general sense, even when Vongola business forbids specifics. It's good of him to do, but then, your boy is a good man. You'd sleep easy at night just because of that, even if you didn't know where he was or what he was doing._

_When he tells you, one day when he's in town, that there's something he wants to show you, you don't think much about it. That changes when you see him produce a box from his pocket that's of a size to sit comfortably in a man's palm. He stands, expression quiet, and when you see the flame envelop his ring, then you understand what it is that he's showing you._

_And it takes your breath away._

_Your boy shows you his forms, one sword, two swords, with a swallow made flame and Will swooping through them, and it's clear to you now why he'd wanted something to concentrate on all those years ago, when he'd first come home again._

_Once he's finished, he turns to you. That's when you tell him that you've left Shigure Souen in good hands._

_It takes him a minute to hear all the things that means, but when he does, he promises you, solemn, that he'll make you proud._

_Don't be stupid, you tell him, and flick his forehead, because the one thing that's always been true is how proud of your boy you are._

_He understands, then, and smiles._

_Show me again, you say, and he does._

_It's one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen._

**- end -**

**

* * *

NOTES**

**engawa**: The veranda or porch seen on classic Japanese buildings.

**Go Rin No Sho (The Book of Five Rings)**: Miyamoto's treatise on strategy, philosophy, and kenjutsu. It is still studied today, and provides insight into the art of the sword and of war. Again, Wikipedia has a nice overview of the book here (search for "Go Rin No Sho" or "The Book of Five Rings"), and there are English translations readily available.

**Hagakure**: This is a slightly later text than the Go Rin No Sho, and is a compilation of the samurai philosophy of Yamamoto Tsunetomo. Its focus is primarily on bushido, or the way of the warrior. The Hagakure was compiled after the heyday of the samurai, and in many senses reifies the "good old days" that had passed for the samurai. It also provides advice for how samurai should conduct their love affairs with each other, which is endlessly entertaining. The Wikipedia article on the Hagakure is a nice overview (search "Hagakure"), as is its article on Yamamoto Tsunetomo (search "Yamamoto Tsunetomo").

**ittōryu**: A kenjutsu style using one sword; generally the sword would be the longer katana, although one supposes this is not strictly necessary.

**katana**: The longer Japanese sword; generally, this is the sword that most people think of when they think of Japanese swords, but it more specifically means a sword whose blade is over 60 centimeters long.

**kenjutsu**: The art of the sword.

**Miyamoto Musashi**: A famous Japanese swordsman and philosopher; he wrote the Go Rin No Sho and practiced a two-sword form of kenjutsu which was known variously as niten'ichi or nitoichi ("two heavens as one" and "two swords as one" respectively). Wikipedia has a good beginning biography of him (search "Miyamoto Musashi").

**nitōryu**: A kenjutsu style that uses two swords. Miyamoto advocated using two katana to train, which would allow the swordsman to develop greater control if he later switched to a katana-wakizashi combination, but the more general combination seems to be a katana in the dominant right hand and wakizashi in the left hand. Miyamoto advised using the two-sword style in melee situations, rather than two-person duels.

**wakizashi**: A shorter Japanese sword; its blade is usually between 30 and 60 centimeters long. The katana-wakizashi pair are what are usually seen in images of typical samurai.

* * *

Comments always welcome!


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